Draco's Journal, Year One
by AshLandWriter
Summary: From my fanfiction Harry Potter of Slytherin, these are Draco's entries in the journal his father had gifted him with. The entries will make more sense if you're reading the other fanfiction as well. Some chapters will be poems, others will just be thoughts of the day. Warning: contains eating disorder and abuse. There will not be trigger warnings for specific chapters. Thank you.
1. Mudblood 12 of Sept 1999

**Mudblood 12/09/1991**

A word, a term, describes someone I know

To know it means not what it's claimed to be

The use to categorize a person

Of that muggle decent is where she came

And here she stays, and here she reads to learn

The art of which was once to not be taught

To those of which who weren't a witch by blood

And now my friend is mad at me for her

Because I said a word, a term to her

Mudblood I said and now I pay for it

Outcast by friend and now alone to deal

Simple it seems, but not as it appears

The word was mean, I hear him say to me

I disagree, and now disappointed

Is he and madly frustrated with me

* * *

\- This poem was styled using the traditional Blank Verse format, for those wondering. The poems in this fanfiction will probably be more of the traditional types, since that's what Draco probably would have learned.


	2. 14 of Sept 1999

**14/09/1991**

Today something happened, something I hoped wouldn't… In general, I haven't been feeling very well. I've been getting more headaches than usual, and although it's cold in the dungeons, sometimes I feel like I almost have a fever… Looking back now I should have known it would happen, but I didn't think I had done anything wrong.

Today I had my first quidditch tryouts. I'm not sure how I did, although I imagine it couldn't be that good with what happened … I told Potter the sun just got in my eyes, and that's why I missed, but I really just wasn't feeling too good. I didn't just have a headache. I also started to feel a little dizzy, which, I suppose, is bad while flying a broom…

If I manage to get on the team, then I hope I can prevent this from happening again. I just have to do well. I just know my father would be so proud to hear me make the team, at least I hope he would be proud enough.

Here's to being good enough.

-Draco


	3. 16 of Sept 1999

**16/09/1991**

I knew it. I knew my father was paying them. They say it's to protect me and to report dangerous things to my father, but they're taking it too far.

Let's be fair for a moment. They've been my friends for a while, so naturally they know things about me. They know things I've gone through, but that gives them no excuse to plan out my day.

I suppose they're just worry. I am their friend for starters, and I imagine serving my father must be stressful. They must pick these things out, because they worry if they let go of or miss the smallest thing then they'd be to blame.

They have nothing to worry about though. I'm fine. I'm better than fine. I'm doing well in most of my classes, I'm slowly becoming good friends with The-Boy-Who-Lived, and I'm on the Slytherin quidditch team. It can't get any more fine than that… Actually, maybe it can. What do you think? Try to get an Outstanding in every one of my classes by the end of term, become the best Chaser on the field? I think I can do that.

Grades are posted every week. I currently have an Outstanding in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, an Exceeds Expectations in History of Magic and Charms, leaving an Acceptable in Transfiguration. Oh, and my flying. We cannot forget my Outstanding flying. This term is going to be a piece of cake.

Wish me the best.

-Draco

* * *

-Sorry that I've been changing the dates a lot. It's just that the book made it seem like school had started right after Harry's birthday, so when I realized it started in September while re-listening the second book I had to change that. This morning I realized I did the math wrong somehow for the year as well, while researching if Pike was in Draco's year. So, I've just fixed that now too. I hope there's no need for fixing dates from here on out.


	4. Perfectly Unmentioned 17 of Sept 1999

**Perfectly Unmentioned 17/09/1991**

What's it mean to be perfectly perfect

Is it one's accomplishments or their deeds

This is what I am trying to reflect

...

Because this is what I imagine feeds

My own thoughts relentlessly discouraged

As I notice my father's letter reads

...

Once upon a time and now has been aged

The memory remembered and mentioned

Makes me feel I have fallen and been caged

...

Because it follows with being tensioned

A thought that I could never do so well

With all I accomplished been unmentioned

...

These things are why I feel I must have fell

And now have been landed right into hell

* * *

\- This poem is structured in the traditional format of Terza Rima


	5. 22 of Sept 1991

**22/09/1991**

The other night I made a schedule. This schedule improves my use of time by shortening some tasks and adding more time for others. To say Crabbe and Goyle weren't very happy would be an understatement…

They were questioning whether or not to tell my father, and when they concluded it was too early to do so they wondered if they should tell Harry about one of my more—they said vulnerable—times of my life.

The last thing I want is for Harry to find out about this. This would make me appear weak, even weaker than someone from another house would think of me, as I'm a lot more nice and communitive to those of my own house… The last thing I want is to appear weak. I need to look more capable, and this schedule may actually be the trick to doing that.

This schedule involves putting in more time for quidditch practice and school work. My previous goal of getting an Outstanding in each class works well with this. There's no way someone is going to see me as weak or incapable if I do perfectly in school and become the best Chaser on the field. Of course, there is the issue that the other Chasers may feel hesitant to throw the quaffle to me, as I'm new and they don't know me that well, but when I get my chance I'm going to prove them wrong.

Here's to proving them all wrong.

-Draco


	6. 12 of Oct 1991

12/10/1991

I don't know why I thought I could make my father proud. It wasn't that we lost the game. It was that he didn't like the position I had. A position reserved for females he said. He had a point. It was traditionally held by females, as they have a better body type for it. It's just… Looking at me, I haven't had a growth spurt yet and I lack muscle. This is the only position I could possibly do even remotely well at. He should just be proud that I even made the team…

He thinks it's temporary. Of course he does… It's not like I was always this thin. It just kind of happened, but that doesn't mean it will be easy gaining back all the muscle I had lost. Especially, since I wasn't very strong or muscular in the first place. In any case, he believes I could become a Beater if I only tried hard enough.

When I told him I was Harry's alternate as Seeker he almost lost it. He saw it as a chance for me to become more known and respected, if I could only have the position permanently. Lucky, or unluckily, for me, he saw how pale I had become and decided it could hold off until next year. I suppose if there's an accident he just doesn't want it to affect my reputation any more than it has to, as if an accident occurred during a quidditch match it would already be public enough. He wouldn't want my reputation to be affected further by having my issues being the reason that the game would be lost…

I know I'm not perfect, and definitely not perfect enough for my father's standards, but who really is? What could I possibly do that I haven't done already? What could I do that no one's ever tried before? All I can do is keep to my schedule and hope that an Outstanding in every class will raise his approval of me, even if he doesn't acknowledge my skill for quidditch yet.

Here's to trying my best.

-Draco


	7. 22 of Oct 1991

22/10/1991

Harry knows. He doesn't know everything, but he knows enough. He's already looking at me like I could break at any moment. Like I'm fragile and weak. Like I can't take care of myself and deal with the basics of school and sport.

I really wish I hadn't said it, but I couldn't have him know the root cause of it all, and it seemed like if I didn't say something then Goyle would tell him everything… I just couldn't have that.

I wanted him to stay out of this. I wanted a friend that didn't know about any of my problems, one who didn't feel the need to micromanage my every action or idea. But now… Now he knows, and I can't help but feel that's changed things.

I was a pureblood of a house that's had a long line of people in Slytherin. I was rich and held a good title. I was determined to do my best in both school and sport. Now, none of that matters, because all he sees is a fragile boy who's putting himself in danger just by being on the quidditch team.

Here's to hoping he doesn't tell anyone.

-Draco


	8. Weak and Frail 24 of Oct 1991

**Weak and Frail 24/10/1991**

To be weak and frail

As others worry to no end

Every letter in the mail

With a gift in the send

...

Each word someone says, a tale

Of what's around the bend

To be weak and frail

As others worry to no end

...

Each word spoken as hail

By those who I call friend

And whatever they intend

It's like they want me to fail

To be weak and frail

* * *

-This poem uses the traditional format of Rondel.


	9. 31 of Oct 1991

**31/10/1991**

Why do I care if Harry is in danger more than my other friends? This is the question I needed to answer for Crabbe and Goyle. What is the difference between them and Harry? Crabbe suggests that I may be more worried about Harry, because Harry has less experience and therefore will know less.

I don't think that's the reason why. It may be part of it, but there has to be a bigger reason than just that… I just know that Harry's friendship has meant a lot, and even if we argue a lot I wouldn't want to lose it. Is that it? I just don't want to lose his friendship? I suppose it would make sense. After all, as Crabbe and Goyle are in the pureblood community I would still be able to see them and talk to them even if we weren't friends… As part of the pureblood community they would also have resources, resources that Harry wouldn't have if he were to get into some kind of trouble.

It would be easier to lose Harry's friendship. It would be easier to lose his life. As purebloods we're told to carry around at least one healing potion at all times. If a troll beats Harry to a near death, he won't have the potion on him… I do hope he's okay, even if he did leave me for that mudblood girl Granger… At least now I know why I worry about him more. It's just that it would be easier to lose him. I hope he survives.

Here's to answering the question and wishing for friends to stay safe.

-Draco


	10. Sometimes 10 of Nov 1991

**Sometimes 10/11/1991**

Sometimes

Sometimes more, there's

A fear I can't explain

It controls me and hurts me, but

None know

.

None know about this monster, the one that imprisons me and controls me. It hurts me, but I can't stop it. If I try to break free from it, it only clings to me harder. If I give in, it only wants more. There's a mutual respect that's needed, I think, but sometimes I wonder if it can sense how weak I am. Sometimes I wonder if it thinks I'm too weak to be in control, that it thinks things will be better if it takes control.

My father tells me it's just some foolish behavior, as if I have a choice in any of this. He doesn't realize how in control this monster is, and neither do my friends. Crabbe and Goyle watch over me carefully, as if I may break or fall to my demise at any time. Not that it stops them from not being there when I'm truly in danger...

Harry doesn't know the full story. He only knows the smallest part, and although I trust him and he cares about me, I cannot bear to tell him the entire truth. If I did and if he truly understood, then all he would see is this monster controlling me, and I so much need for someone to just see me as a person.

Here's to being seen as a person and earning this monster's respect.

-Draco

* * *

\- This poem uses the traditional format of Cinquain. I thought that since this poem's structure is rather short that I should include an actual entry as well. It also makes sense, since Draco has had this journal long enough to feel like he can explain the meaning behind his poems. Of course, that doesn't mean the explanation will make total sense. He's still new to this and a bit paranoid that someone could read it, so as of right know his writings will be somewhat vague. For those keeping up with the fanfiction associated with this, this entry was written the day after the chapter _Sometimes, Sometimes More_ takes place. I hope you're enjoying this. For those who can relate in some way or another, I hope this gives you comfort and lets you know that you are neither crazy nor alone.


	11. 26 of Nov 1991

**26/11/1991**

You should have seen the look on Daphne's face at dinner tonight. She was so happy. She was happy that I had made her sister happy. Apparently, Astoria loved the gift I had sent for her birthday…

I feel a bit guilty. The letter didn't even contain my own thoughts. I had to get help from a friend. I feel so stupid. I'm practically engaged to her, and I couldn't even remember that her eyes are dark green. The only thing I actually did think of was to send a phoenix quill. I don't know if she's read about phoenixes or not, but if she has then I've just promised our relationship to be eternal… and I don't even like her…

Crabbe and Goyle think it will change in time, that we're still young but naturally it will happen. I hope they're right, but I fear they're wrong. Even Harry's managed to become at least friends with a girl and he's been locked up for most of his life, but I can't even talk to a girl without getting annoyed. It's they're voice, I think. It's too high. It's too sharp… Maybe some girls are just too happy… My friends think this annoyance is a good thing, and maybe they're right. Maybe that annoyance will turn into interest someday.

But right now I just feel broken, like a calligraphy quill that uses the wrong font or a spell that only works half the time. Really, I've been able to write poems right and left about my family, my friends, my problems, but when it came to Astoria I couldn't even write a basic letter without help. Granted, I do care for my friends more than I do about her and the things I tend to write poems for are more intense or passionate, but if I'm going to write a poem about anyone it should have been her. Not my father. Not Harry. Not my friends. But her… and yet I couldn't… I've failed.

Here's to what's been broken and to which can be fixed.

-Draco


	12. 28 of Nov 1991

**28/11/1991**

I must have been dreading the class so much that I'd made myself forget about it. I've been doing great in all of my other classes. I got my Transfiguration grade up to an Exceeds Expectations, and my History of Magic grade has also risen up to an Outstanding since we had that test on ministry judges at the time of the last war. Finally, hearing Father drone on and on about the unfairness of their board turned into something good, even if I had to change the perspective and make them sound good.

Herbology on the other hand has just been an afterthought. Truthfully, sometimes I forget I even have the class, until that is someone so helpfully reminds me. I hadn't looked at the posted grades for that class even once, so when I finally did today I found myself terribly surprised at the Poor grade I had been apparently maintaining.

When I talked to Sprout she claimed I haven't even been trying, that I'm not hard enough of a worker to even earn a passing grade. Hmm. And here I thought getting over my disgust of even touching dirt would at least let me pass the class. Seriously, it is just that horrible. Immediately after the class is done I find myself running to the nearest bathroom, and by the time my hands are rubbed sore sometimes I still don't feel like they're clean enough. To make matters worse, sometimes I can't even wash my hands right away because we would have Charms afterwards. Of course, there are buckets and a waterspout right outside of the greenhouse, but if we take longer than a few seconds then we'd be holding up the line and end up getting yelled at.

I guess I'll just have to work harder, do better… No matter what the means… It's really important I pass this class, forget getting an Outstanding. This teacher hates me. That Longbottom is her favorite, even the klutz he is. Behind him is Abbot and Brown. I really wish I could get an Outstanding, but with filth like that I don't stand a chance. I'll be lucky if I even pass.

To passing or better.

-Draco


	13. 1 of Dec 1991

**01/12/1991**

My father paid me a visit today. I wish he hadn't. I didn't even have to speak a word for him to get mad, and when I spoke I just made things worse. Contraband he called it. It took a while for him to find it, and he held my arm tight as he searched for it. Maybe he thought I would run off and try to hide it, or perhaps he griped me hard on purpose. I really don't know.

My arm still hurts, so there's no doubt going to be a bruise. Luckily, the school robes are long, but if anyone does see I'll have to make something up. I won't be the one to disgrace our family's name… Like my father's always told me, I wouldn't do that. I would never betray him like that. I would never disgrace our family like that. I would never bring shame upon the pureblood community like that. Besides, I know by now there's always a reason, for which I'm to blame. This is just my punishment, and I deserve every moment of it.

I don't know why I couldn't just listen. If I'd been at lunch I bet none of that would have even happened, but it was just quidditch practice. It was just a measuring tape. It can't be that bad, right?

They say I'm obsessed. They don't understand why I need to do this… but, frankly, neither do I. Too see my progress is what I said, but what am I trying to achieve? More muscle I tell myself, but I know very little muscle can be gained at my age. It won't be until after my growth spurt that I'll actually be able to change anything. Plus, if I'm measuring for muscle that doesn't explain the other things I measure… I guess I'm afraid that if I don't keep track of myself, then I'd slip and fall into the mess that is fat and disfiguration.

It's not a big deal. I promise. I just need to make sure I don't lose myself. I won't let myself go. I have to be perfect. Gods know I have enough people to please.

Here's to pleasing them.

-Draco


	14. 12 of Dec 1991

**12/12/1991**

Finally, my grades are picking up. My grade in Herbology is now Acceptable… I won't lie to you. You're just a piece of paper, and I deserve to tell myself the truth. It's been hard, real hard. I didn't realize why at first, but then one memory would just so easily lead to another.

I remember when I was younger, between five and seven, I think. My mother would play me the piano. She'd play Chopin, Mozart, and some pieces so beautifully peaceful which resembled lullabies. There were many times where I'd fall asleep at her feet… Father wasn't too proud of me.

He'd startle me awake as he'd pull me to my feet, and then he'd curse me to stand, sometimes for five hours or more. His words were vague enough so that I'd be able to lean against the bookshelves of the library, but I wouldn't be able to sit until the ordered amount of time has passed.

Eventually, I got used to standing, and when I grew tired I'd walk around the manor to keep myself from collapsing with weariness. It was inconvenient enough, though, to make me prevent myself from touching the floor again. From then on I always sat in a chair.

I also remember the garden, filled with rose and lavender bushes. There were tiles and there were benches, but I couldn't resist touching the plants that resided there. Father saw me, said plants are to be seen but never touched, that they are covered with dirt, germs, and invisible creatures that eat at the skin and drink your blood. He ordered me to scrub my hands clean, and he would say and order those things every time since.

Maybe it's these memories that make Herbology so hard for me, or maybe there's more. I don't know, but these memories had to have been the start. Every time I touch a plant I hear my father telling me not to. Whenever I sit on the floor I feel a need to stand, although that's been easier to ignore. I tell myself it's irrational, that I can't stand up because there's no other place to play checkers of chess. Granted, they have stone and marble sets in the common room, but I prefer to have the conversations, which take place during chess, in private.

Anyway, even with my ingrained fear of dirt and plants, I've managed to get my grade up. It really hasn't been easy, but I've taken every opportunity. I don't cut my nails fully down, as it hurts to cut them fully, so they get back to the longer length quite fast. Normally this wouldn't be an issue, but they've had a tendency to break during Herbology, and then, at the end of the day, I find myself coming out of the shower with cuts on my arms. I'm just lucky it's not my face. At least my arms can be covered… They don't really hurt, the cuts. This may sound crazy, but they're more of a pleasant sting than anything. Not that that prevents me from using the healing ointment and band aids. It would look odd if I didn't, and Goyle was right. For some reason sometimes my cuts don't stop bleeding, and I don't want the possibility of the blood seeping through my clothes.

I don't remember which vitamins help with healing. I think it was vitamin C and some other. I'll have to look it up. Clearly, I'm lacking something.

Here's to getting better, with everything.

-Draco


	15. 15 of Dec 1991

**15/12/1991**

The closer we get to the holidays, the more I'm remembering things, the more I remember last year. There are these small flashes that are triggered by the oddest things. Anything from a tie to a book, or even a door can trigger a memory.

As I get ready for class, straightening my tie, I remember my father standing behind me as I looked into the mirror. He held me by my shoulders and said, "Remember. Image is everything." and I merely responded by saying, "Yes, Father."

There's no way he could have known just how scared I had become. I knew something was wrong, but that horrible, ominous feeling had been overcome by my sense of relief. It was nice having no thoughts. It was nice feeling so light. It was nice knowing that the mere sound of my weight hitting the floor would not disturb the manor or any of my father's guests. There would be no criticism, there would be no musings of disappointment or yelling, and there would be no punishments. Because I was just that quiet, and the old floors would never creak.

I remember the door opening, as we were let into the Goyle's home. It had been their turn to host the winter gala, and when we were let in I saw nothing but white and blue. People were gathering in the dining room, chatting with glasses of wine and picking at finger foods before the main course would start. There we sat at the long table, and in between bites people would speak of their achievements and surmise how the year's been. They'd complain about the most stupid things, like untidy lawns and the laziness of the lower class. "Why don't they just work harder to get more money" I heard Blaise's mother, the black widow, complain.

My mother prompted me to eat through the distractions, but I said I wasn't feeling well. It hadn't been a complete lie. The smell alone was enough to make me gag. She must have believed me, because she didn't say another word.

After dinner and some mild conversation, we'd walk into the room which was put aside for events. It was here that the special pairings of the new generation would dance the waltz, before the older generation would join in. But something was wrong. The room was spinning, and when I stopped it didn't. Everything was muffled, as I heard Astoria trying to speak to me, and suddenly the room gradually got very bright before turning to the darkest of blacks.

There had been a reason, but even after it had happened I thought it to be nothing. After all, we fast every year, but as I write this I remember my first year. I was seven. They said it would be hard, but it wasn't… I just remember reading this red book on the couch in the library. I had checked my pocket watch, seeing if dinner would be soon, but as I remembered that there wouldn't be, I just smiled, relaxed, and continued to read. I was glad it wouldn't be interrupted like it had been so many times before.

Now, every time I see these things I remember. Things so common shouldn't take such a hold, but they do. I hate remembering. I hate feeling so sad. I just hate this. I just hate remembering how scared I was, and how I somehow thought delving further into this monster's grasp would make everything so much better. I remember my heart pounding, my bones aching, and asking myself why it hurt so much. I remember being content, I remember thinking "This is the best it gets", and I remember doing nothing.

It scares me when I think about it, how un in control I am of my life and of this thing. I don't want to go back there… at least I don't think I do. I just remember how bad it all was, but for some reason I can't seem to do anything but watch myself as I fall back down again.

Here's to the fall.

-Draco


	16. 18 of Dec 1991

**18/12/1991**

Someone tried to kill me today, or at least that's the assumption. There was a gift of candy in which some of it was laced with a fast acting poison. Suddenly I've got a whole lot more respect for this monster that controls me, because it may have just saved me… I know it sounds crazy, but that's the only way I can put it.

Crabbe's doing better, but that poison really did him in. He was just about out of it for the morning classes, and he only seemed to get better after lunch. I guess the food really did him some good. Now he seems to be back to his old self.

No one knows who was behind the attack, but the headmaster hopes my father will have some clue. But I know this attempt is futile, because even when we narrow down who's more likely to use poisons there's still no doubt going to be a long list. For all we know the attack could have come from someone Father's long forgotten about. In any case, we can only hope for the best.

Here's to catching the killer.

-Draco


	17. 05 of Jan 1992

**05/01/1992**

The holidays were eventful to say the least. I'm cured! Or so they think. It was so easy to sit there, sipping the red wine and nibbling on the oranges and cloves, as the jet pendent around my neck promised to heal me and make our family prosperous after the solstice ritual… I promised I was okay to everyone, and it was just so easy to lie and even easier for them to believe. That's how I know the monster still lives within me, is because it was so easy to lie, and what better time to lie than when people have a reason to believe you've been cured?

My parents were easily fooled. I didn't want to lie to them, but whenever I started to tell the truth it would just end another way. Between the rapid cutting of the fork and knife, swiping food into the cloth napkin while they weren't looking, and taking the tiniest bites I could manage, I would begin to admit I wasn't okay. However, this thing always stopped me. It told me to be quiet. It told me say things that were only partly true, because of course I ate! I ate a bite or two… and there was just this sickening feeling, a feeling like I've stumbled into something dark with no escape or way to turn.

Goyle was the hardest to convince, but even he fell subject to my lies in the end. I ate a whole meal, and that was it. That was all the proof he needed, but immediately I just felt so sick. It was worse than that sickening feeling of the dark I mentioned before. I just felt too full, too warm, and if I didn't get rid of it I felt that'd be it, the end to all ends… I didn't have my wand, so I tried it by hand… It didn't work nearly as well as the monster had planned. It had whispered those thoughts to me, and I acted on its desire, but it wasn't very pleased when all that came up was water. I guess it just wasn't for me.

Here's to not being bulimic.

-Draco


	18. 08 of Jan 1992

**08/01/1992**

Is it possible for something to be too easy? Asking a few strangers I hear them laugh and say 'absolutely not', but I know I feel this to be untrue and then the next second I wonder if something is really wrong with me. I should be happy things are easier now, shouldn't I be? It's usually when people have hard things to do that they complain, so then why am I? Do I even deserve to?

I think I do, or at least I would hope so. I don't really understand why I do these things, only that it seems this monster's been whispering to me more and more lately. You see, I had this impulse, this impulse which in my messed up mind actually seemed like a good thing at the time. I'd taken a muffin from the Hall, so my friends would think I ate, but I'd secretly planned to either throw it out or give it away. Now, I've made a deal with a couple girls that I will give them snacks in the library while they study during lunch and dinner. So, that's the plan. Every day I will have breakfast as I wait for any post or packages to arrive, I will take a few items up to the library during lunch and dinner to 'eat', I will give those items away, and then I will use the time the way I see fit.

As I did this for the first time, the monster said it will be the easiest thing I've ever done. Just the fact that I know it's true makes me shake slightly, because things like this shouldn't be so easy. It never was before… but that may just be because I had everyone else getting in the way in their attempts to 'help', but I don't need it. Do I? I've managed quite well on my own, haven't I? At the very least I haven't died, and thinking about it more clearly, why would this monster kill me? If it kills me, it will have no one to speak to… It may even die itself. So, it wouldn't hurt me. Would it? Why would it, when it has no reason to?

Maybe this will be a good thing. After all, this thing seems to make me better than I've ever been, that is when I actually listen to it. If I listen and if I follow its commands, then suddenly I'm just so much better at everything. My mind becomes a lot more clear and focused, my productivity doubles, and the world and my future seem to look just a bit brighter. It's this calm that settles in, I think, knowing I have nothing to worry about, knowing this thing will take care of everything for me. I may get scared to follow through on its orders sometimes, but it always seems to know the right thing to do. Whether I like to admit it or not, this monster makes me a better me… and maybe that's the scariest thing, knowing that you're depending on something so dark to make your life appear brighter… but my life is better. I'm better. This idea of perfection that no one seems able to reach, I can feel it just within my grasp. I just need to work harder, do better, worry and complain less, and then maybe I'll get there.

Here's to getting there.

-Draco


	19. 13 of Jan 1992

**13/01/1992**

I returned the measuring tape to Snape this morning, as I had been told to. He reacted very little, only saying thank you before the other students shuffled in. I wonder how long he's known I had it for, and what prompted him to ask for it back? I did have it for at least or week or two before the holidays began, so if he's known nearly this whole time, as I suspect he has, then why would he only tell me to give it back now?

Perhaps I'm overthinking this. Maybe he only just figured it out. I'm sure there are plenty of tapes around, and I doubt the teachers count their inventory each single week. In any case, now I'm tapeless and all I can seem to think about is the need to get another… At least I have the scale now. If I didn't, then I feel like I'd be panicking even more. However, I already know I'm underweight, so I doubt it will be much use to me unless I do get a measuring tape to compare. If I gain weight but lose muscle, then I know I've gained fat. If I gain both muscle and weight, then that's good. If I gain muscle but lose weight… well, I'm sure that'd never happen.

Speaking of the scale, I have lost weight, not a lot but enough. I know I shouldn't be, and I know if my father were to find out then I'd be punished, but I have a hard time seeing it as a bad thing. Sure, my hip bones show a little. Sure, my clothes have been a little baggy, and sure, I know this isn't at all right, but since when has anything stopped me just because it wasn't right? And look, I'm a whole lot better for it. I swear. It's only been a week, but my grades nonetheless are absolutely amazing. I got an Outstanding in nearly every class, people are starting to recognize me more, and I even got a few compliments during quidditch practice… although, I must admit one of them in particular seemed a little off. Flint, our captain, had acknowledged the progress I've made with a pat on the back, but he lingered there for a little too long. I could feel his hand tense up as his thumb moved down my shoulder to the top of my collarbone, and then his smile faded, his only response being to 'keep up the good work'. Writing this I just have to wonder if he had meant it, if his compliment was truly genuine. Had I actually made progress, or was this just some ploy to get close and assess my physical 'wellbeing' for himself? I wouldn't be surprised if it was. It's almost like I speak another language. People just have this very annoying tendency to ignore the things I say. If I say I already did something, they ignore it. If I say I'm fine, they ignore it. If I insist something has happened, they ignore it. Do they truly just not believe me so much, or is it more that they've expected it all along. Are they sick, tired, and just plain bored of me, or, like my parents, do they believe I'm just trying to be dramatic?

I'm not sure what to believe, but I know I must be doing something right. That was the whole goal of this year, wasn't it? To be noticed and to have respect, just like a good Malfoy should? I joined the quidditch team precisely to earn respect and to be noticed. I have great grades, because I need people to know I'm the best. Blaise for sure has at least noticed that, if he really wants to be paid with completed assignments. If I'm being noticed more by more and more people as the days move forward, I must be doing something right, then. Aren't I?

Here's to doing something right.

-Draco


	20. 25 of Jan 1992

**25/01/1992**

All of these years I thought it was just some misunderstanding, but I guess there was a reason why I was too afraid to clear up that misunderstanding. Why was I was afraid? Well, because apparently there'd never been a misunderstanding at all… I asked for it to stop, but he wouldn't. He actually just hurt me more…The worse part has to be that the weasel saw at least part of it, and what did he say about it? He made fun of me, saying I had daddy issues and that my father must have better things to do if he just abandoned me like that… but I guess that's just what you'd get from a Weasley. Unruly judgment and oblivious hypocrisy. In the weasel's case, you also get violent anger…

I'm currently lying on my bed and listening to the record player my mother gave me. She gave it to me because she knew how much I missed hearing her play, but now all I can think about is whether she's been aware of this at all. Does she know what's been happening? Probably not… Father likes to keep her away from me. That last visit she hadn't even been told when I was told to come home, and she simply said that it must have slipped from his mind to tell her. I know better. He's done that before, too many times to count actually… He's performed the curse on me in front of her before. That much I know. What I don't know is if she knows about the other things, the forceful handling and associated bruises.

I really don't know what to do now. What am I supposed to do? Just pretend it never happened? Continue dedicating my life to a man who must just hate my mere existence so much… and my mother. Should I tell her? How would she react if I did? She'd probably just think I was exaggerating or trying to be dramatic… She'd never believe some complaining child over her own husband, and he'd surely have an explanation ready for anything I could possibly say. Even if I had proof, he'd probably be able explain that away as well. I… I really just don't know what to do.

I don't know what to do.

-Draco


	21. 31 of Jan 1992

\- I've ran into an issue, where as I was reading Draco's journal for like the 50th time, I ran across an error or two. You know just the usual repeating a word while replacing another and that type of thing. In this case is was, "Why was I was afraid." which was intended to be "Why was I so afraid." Now, at the moment I've kept it the way it is, but I'd really like to know what you think. As this is a journal, and since Draco is still only human, maybe leaving a mistake or two in actually makes it more realistic? Or does it detract to the point of it all, you know, getting his story and trying to understand it? Let me know what you think. Should I or should I not keep the mistake?

* * *

 **31/01/1992**

So, Goyle had another chat with me today. He's worried. I know, but I just wish everyone would just leave it alone. I don't have the time or energy to deal with everyone's concern, even if that concern is coming from the captain or one of my closest friends. I don't even know how they could know. I haven't even gone down seven pounds. There shouldn't be any notable difference in me.

The captain. I remember. Flint had pulled me aside while the others did drills, only asking if I was alright. I know that he knows that I know what he had seen that day. I was careless, but now I've got more to hide. Those bruises, they won't just go away, and now I'm left asking myself if I'm truly okay. I had answered honestly when he'd asked me. I said that yeah, I was fine, because even if I've been scared before, I've since felt as if I've got this monster under control. However, now there's that other monster, a physical being. Let's call him the hawk. The hawk gripped me so tight, and it's not something a mere tank top could hide. So, I've switched to a long sleeve… but it doesn't make a difference.

Just because someone can't see something, doesn't mean that it's not there. The monster, for example, has been with me for a long time now, and it took the longest time for people to know it existed. And the hawk… I feel so stupid. How could I not have seen it before, that his intentions were nothing more than to preserve his legacy? He doesn't care about me. If he did, then he would have stopped when I said it hurt… No. He doesn't care for me. He never has. He just needs an heir… And I am not worthy. I never have been. He should just find another son, one who can make him proud… because I… I clearly can't. I'm never enough. I never do well enough.

I never do well enough.

-Draco


	22. 03 of Feb 1992

**03/02/1992**

Blaise confronted me today, and I must say there's nothing I love more than someone disrupting my day. It's supposed to be a simple thing, getting through the day, but it seems wherever I turn some obstacle awaits. Whether it be some unplanned assignment, someone asking questions or giving lectures, or a friend trying to make or break a plan. It has to be the most annoying thing, having your day all planned out just so someone else can step in and ruin it.

This morning before breakfast my time was significantly limited when Blaise confronted me. As a result, I had to miss the few short minutes I had with my friends, going straight up to the library and still not getting my assignment done in time. If it wasn't for the fact that I had Potions before Herbology and that since I have an Outstanding in the class Snape didn't seem to mind me working on something else, then those minutes of questions Blaise asked could have ruined everything. My grades. My goals. Everything. I must just be lucky it didn't.

He was going on about how I look different. Apparently my facial structure is more defined or something stupid like that. He also says I'm losing more hair than I should be, but honestly it's nothing more than what I've experienced before. It's nothing… Really. It isn't. Of course, I guess it couldn't hurt to be more careful, put the hair from my comb in some toilet paper or something before placing it in the bin… He shouldn't be concerned. If he has anything to be concerned about it should be his mother. She's clearly fallen into that dark abyss, and yet he seems to think she's perfectly fine. "Only for special occasions" he said she said. Oh, but I know better. I know much better. Even if it has been only happening for special occasions, it's that kind of thinking that makes a person slip deeper. No. It's her that has the problem, not me.

I don't have a problem.

-Draco


	23. 14 of Feb 1992

**14/02/1992**

Yesterday the scale was stolen from me. I thought it was Blaise, but when I threatened to render him mute Goyle stepped forward and said it was him… I'm not sure what to think. He said it wasn't good for me, and I just lamely commented on how I'm a couple months older and that I'll decide what is or isn't good for me myself. I had made such a scene, and I'm only glad so few people were there to witness it.

He was right about one thing, though. If someone who didn't know me saw my behavior, they would think me to be insane. I actually had my wand pointed at a friend, and I threatened him. Even when he offered me that deal to only use the scale in front of him I still held my wand up. Furthermore, I let Nott witness my use of the scale just because he agreed he could stay quiet, which I suppose he usually does, but it doesn't excuse how careless I was.

It's a desperateness, I know. It's the need to make sure that I'm not going to become fat and disfigured, and knowing that I'm underweight doesn't even help because even if it won't happen over night, it may very well sneak up on you. How else can you explain how people seem to just let themselves go like that? It's just wrong, I'm telling you, to have thighs bigger than your feet, to have so much fat blocking the organs and clogging up the arteries, and especially to have all that extra skin under your chin. We were born with one for a reason. Being fat is a health risk. I don't care if all of these food obsessed people say not eating isn't healthy. At least I'm getting something done. I don't see Crabbe working on anything. No. You want to know why? Because he's always eating. He eats almost as much as Goyle works on homework, and that's saying something. Some people just really need to learn how to become disciplined and accomplished. Food can't keep you happy. You know what will? Accomplishments. Yes. Wouldn't you rather get one thing accomplished that you can feel good about for a month, rather than sit around for an entire month trying to fill that void with food?... Apparently not. Ah well, that's fine I guess. More accomplishments for me, then.

I will be accomplished.

-Draco

* * *

\- There comes a time in every author's life, perhaps several hundred times, where you feel like yelling at your characters. Draco! What are you doing?!


End file.
